


Quarantine Cottage Pie à la Parisienne

by 50NoriStars



Series: Star Hero Post [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50NoriStars/pseuds/50NoriStars
Summary: It's a pandemic! And while Arthur and Francis quarantine in Paris, Ludwig sends hero obsessed Alfred to spy on them.
Relationships: America & Canada & England & France (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), France (Hetalia)/Jeanne d'Arc | Joan of Arc
Series: Star Hero Post [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470365
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Kirkland House  
London, UK

"Tea roses this Spring, I think. On a roof garden I have always wanted to try." Arthur shared his plans with Brows during their daily elevenses tea break in Arthur's former teenage bedroom window. The cream colored pub cat with the tabby stripe ‘eyebrows’ preferred he be petted by Arthur over being shown garden catalogs, still he purred, if only half-heartedly. 

"Make ourselves a proper milk-sopping spot without the cheating ponce monster to ruin it, eh?" Arthur merely shook his head at Francis' cheating on him several times in the month they'd been back together. Still, the doomed relationship had rekindled media interest in his family, and a donation windfall for the Kirkland’s various charities. Also on a positive note, (according to Arthur), it had caused him to break things off with admirable, heroic Alfred quickly. And good thing too, because the young man who had been clearly too good for him from the start, (again according to Arthur), was positively thriving in Alaska without a much older, brain injured, plonker boyfriend dossing about in bloody toddler reins to hold him back. 

"British hero dog now Alaskan hero dog." Arthur read to Brows the latest issue of _The Daily Telegraph, _which featured a picture of Alfred and Alfie Hero wearing rescue gear while exiting a rescue helicopter. “Prescribed 'Doggles' by local doctor in bid to restore eyesight." Arthur turned the paper over to show goggles wearing Alfie Hero pictured with Ludwig. "Brilliant that. Makes one think life couldn't get better." He sighed, though he sounded more heartbroken than content even to his ears.__

__Ah, Alfred Luv. Alfred Luv. He pined silently for rescue gear wearing Alfred, then flinched to make tea slosh out his tea cup when his cell phone rang. “Lord, what now.” Arthur scowled when Francis’ showy, rose holding, cape wearing image popped up. “More date dodging, you reckon?” He asked Brows, though his interest in Francis was so minimal now he couldn’t recall making a date in the first place. “Allo?” He answered the phone numbly._ _

__“Arthur! Arthur! Oh, mon caterpillar!” Francis howled with grief to make Arthur think he was acting at first, but then tea sloshed out Arthur’s cup a second time when the sheer rawness of Francis’ cries gave him pause. "Ma goddaughter Jeanne! Jeanne! Seulement nineteen years old. Died alone from la pandémic sans family to comfort her, burning with fièvre!”_ _

__“Pa...pa...pandemic?” Arthur stammered, not believing his ears, then rallied. “Pardon, Francis. My deepest condolences of course, but did you say...”_ _

__“Oui, pandémic. Pandémic! Have you not heard of this? Well you must come to me in Paris, mon caterpillar. Immédiatement. Before les borders close et je suis consumé like Jeanne, from un fièvre of grief!”_ _

__Francis disconnected and Arthur stared at his phone in shock. Then seconds later, his gobsmacked ears heard the sound of an approaching ambulance, and his gobsmacked eyes saw the gate at Downing Street thrown open to allow the ambulance through. “Huh? That’s weird. Patrons gathering OUTSIDE your pub?” Arthur referred to Brows’ home, the Kirk and Land. “I wonder...oh no.” Arthur stifled a sob at the sight of Nick, Brows’ owner and owner of the pub, a jovial giant of a man just turned seventy, being gurneyed out the pub and onto the ambulance as patrons tearfully bid him a swift recovery via shouts, singing, and pint glasses held high._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pub Cat and... Paris Go? (Brows' point of view.)

That afternoon and evening Brows ate and slept alone in the dark closed pub. Next morning he woke to the sound of his letterbox cat door being unlocked, followed by the main door being unlocked by the Kirkland family's security guard, Will. The bag of cat kibble and plastic feeding dish Will carried inside did not look promising, nor did his bypassing Brows' special shelf of pint glasses Nick would fill with steamed prawns every time Brows pressed a counter bell. 

But at least Will had unlocked the letterbox cat door, which Brows darted through and across Downing Street to Kirkland House where he climbed a terrace and pounced into his favorite lounging window. Here he knew Arthur would give him proper food. Well, proper food so much as dry, tasteless, and frequently burnt food could be considered.

"Ah, Brows. You got on well your first night with Nick in hospital, I see." The human spoke sensibly as was his usual manner, and seemed genuinely pleased, though Brows thought he heard a hint of longing behind the words. "So long as you're comfortable staying there alone, Will will see to your care and feeding, though he's hardly a cat expert."

Obviously not, if kibble is all he’s good for. Brows harrumphed to himself sarcastically as he licked clotted cream off a crumpet so dry and tough he was reminded of cork coasters at his pub.

"And Will will also see to it that this room is accessible as well. Though elevenses won't be served, I'm afraid. Because I'll be in Paris, you see."

Again, Brows heard an undercurrent of longing behind the sensible words, enough to make him raise his cream head and notice a leather travel bag resting on the chair beside Arthur, and another sort of travel bag on the bed. A profoundly HORRID sort of travel bag.

"Now now, Brows." Brows barely had time to arch his back threateningly before the human held up his hands and assured him. "Of course I won't make you come with me. It is merely an invitation. Lord knows I myself would prefer lounging about an empty pub and bedroom instead of being pent up with grieving Francis during a pandemic. However, Francis' townhouse does have a terrace. Where we can make a little tea rose niche for ourselves, with far more sun patches for you to sleep on than you have ever experienced in London."

Brows stopped arching his back at that. Sun patches? Outside? On a private terrace where he wouldn't be underfoot of blasted reporters and crew trying to interview the Prime Minister every blasted moment?

"And did I mention Francis is a gourmet chef? With a cottage pie recipe that is beyond sublime?”

That did it. Brows saw the horrid cat carrier in a new light now, because he loved gravy rich cottage pie slightly more than he loved steamed prawns at his pub. Also the longing in Arthur’s voice had grown exponentially as he spoke. This human truly craves my companionship, as much as I crave cottage pie and sunlight. Brows thought, and wondered. But do I crave Arthur’s companionship? His doubtful, emerald green eyes locked onto Arthur’s assuring, similarly green eyes. Arthur furrowed his human eyebrows tensely. Brows furrowed his cat ‘brows’ tensely. Then at last Brows skulked slowly to the cat carrier as if in slow motion by way of decision.

“You will?” Arthur blurted out his surprise and a relieved tear hit his cheek. “Ah, brilliant. Brilliant that! ” He opened the cat flap then zipped it closed once Brows was inside. “And no need to suffer the carrier for long. You’ll be free to move about all you like in my MINI, and my family’s private jet that I’ll call ahead to add cottage pie to the catering list, shall I?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separation Depression, Luddy being Luddy, a Mission and a Girl Named Joan.

Star Hero Post  
Stars and Bars, Alaska

Alfred was home in bed, which felt like a foreign place after nine tortuous weeks of loading, unloading, and flying emergency pandemic medical supplies throughout the remote region. His hair, body, and American flag boxer shorts were clean but slightly damp, so he'd slept an hour after showering at most. "Why am I awake?" He grumbled sleepily and reached for Arthur. But then his throbbing sore hands felt nothing but rumpled sheets, at the same time he spotted toy soldiers on a nearby shelf where he kept his favorite rifle.

Toy soldiers. Handcrafted, wood, old timey British soldiers that Arthur had made a day after he broke up with Alfred. He had carved them and painted them at an arts and craft charity event, but no child attendee had wanted them. "Oh well. Hurt my arm even, like a right plonker." Arthur had written good naturedly to Alfred in messy scrawled letters due to his wearing an arm brace. "But to me the soldiers represent all that is admirable and good, so only a hero in chief such as yourself should take command of them." __

____Across the moon-lit room, through slanted glasses he’d forgotten to take off, Alfred stared sadly at the mustachioed, red coat wearing soldiers. “Is it really okay for me to have them?” He wondered drowsily, then stifled a sob. “Oh, Arthur. Why? Just why?” He whispered to the empty room, then let his heavy eyelids close in sleep behind glasses that were now as tear streaked as they were slanted._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Also back home in the cabin, Alfred’s new dog Alfie Hero, who’d been working exhaustively at the hospital as a Covid-19 specific medical detection dog, whimpered to himself sadly while lying on a rustic blanket. The toy soldier he’d snatched from Alfred’s bedroom floor smelled like Brows’ human, and a little bit like Brows himself. “Miss big brother Brows. Miss big brother Brows.” Alfie Hero snuffled as he sniffed and pawed the object, then snuffled all the more when the cat he’d been hoping would appear, a cat from nearby Star Hero Animal Sanctuary, jumped a fence to prowl the cabin’s surrounding property just as he remembered. “Not big brother Brows. Want big brother Brows.”_ _ _ _

____Alfie Hero sniffed and pawed the soldier some more to comfort himself, then watched as best he could out the patio sliding glass door at the cat whose movements he could follow, though her actual size and shape remained a blur. “Some day. Some day I’ll see her and see what Brows looked like. Then maybe...maybe I’ll see Brows himself!” The happy thought popped into his dog head, and with that he rooted around for his ‘doggles.’ They were lying nearby and already attached in the back so he could slide his head in himself, which he did. Then he went back to staring at the cat outside with new intensity, until her shadowy movements caused him to strain his dog eyes and close them altogether as sleep overcame him._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Eight hours later, when the sound of burgers and pancakes being delivered to the cabin stoop woke the entire household up, Alfred mumbled sleepily at the log wall separating his and Matthew’s bedrooms._ _ _ _

____"Mats, you go. 'Cause pancakes are heavier than burgers."_ _ _ _

____"Maple! They are not, eh?" Was the whiny, drowsy response._ _ _ _

____"Yuh, and the maple syrup's heavier too."_ _ _ _

____"Is not, Als."_ _ _ _

____A long, awkward pause followed with neither wanting to leave their beds. Then they both called out at the same time. "Alfie Hero!"_ _ _ _

____"Woo woo woo!" Alfie Hero was out his dog door in an instant and gunning for the food packages. "Burgers burgers burgers. Extra cheese, extra cheese, extra cheese." He panted as he sniffed then bam! Sniffed himself hard into two pairs of medical work shoes._ _ _ _

____"Alfie hund. Practice using your eyes, nicht your nose only." Ludwig ordered through his face mask, then bent to straighten Alfie Hero’s ‘doggles' before patting him with gloved hands. "Kommen. We practice while Joan arranges our picnic."_ _ _ _

____Alfie Hero sniffed and wagged his tail at the petite, young, pixie-haired nurse named Joan, but Luddy stopped him from following her and the food packages to a nearby picnic table. "Alfred. Matty." He knocked on the door. "Breakfast outside. Waschen hands. Und you." Luddy picked up Alfie Hero and his practice frisbee. "You must earn your burger bites mit catches."_ _ _ _

____Twenty minutes later, Alfie had caught enough frisbees to share breakfast with Alfred and Matty at one end of the long picnic table while Ludwig rolled his eyes at the other end next to Joan. "Alfred. At least stuff onions into Alfie hund's burger bites to help his vision. Und blueberries in his pancake bites, Matthew."_ _ _ _

____"Sure sure, Luddy." Mathew quickly agreed, but Alfred argued._ _ _ _

____"Luddy, dude! I make him burgers stuffed with onion rings all the time!"_ _ _ _

____"Fresh onions not fried, dummkopf! Now listen." He took travel itineraries and tickets out of his briefcase. "You two und Joan have worked hard enough to qualify for a holiday, donated by a vacation home rental company."_ _ _ _

____"Oh yeah?" Alfred brightened along with the others. "Where to?"_ _ _ _

____"Das ist for all who qualify to choose. But I set aside eine special location I knew Joan would like best, und that you two could check on Francis und Arzur."_ _ _ _

____Francis and Arthur. Alfred scowled at Luddy’s mentioning them, and his statement that he wanted the pair checked on. Why? So I can watch them make out again? Alfred groused mentally and barely paid attention as Luddy handed Joan an itinerary first then slid one down the long table for Matty to grab._ _ _ _

____"Paris! Paris!" Joan did a little dance in her Eiffel Tower print scrubs once she’d read hers. "Oh, how I've dreamed of going there!"_ _ _ _

____Matthew was equally elated. "I can visit Francis and show him how good I speak French, eh?" He said happily to make Alfred scowl deeper._ _ _ _

____"That Frenchy french turd is not your dad for you to blubber over, Mats." He growled._ _ _ _

____“Als! Don’t be gross in front of a guest. Sorry Ms. Saint.” Matthew did the Canadian apology thing to Joan._ _ _ _

____“You apologise, Matthew? Why?” The playful young woman teased._ _ _ _

____“Yuh, why Matty?” Alfred teased also, for Joan’s benefit. “When I’m the gross as fuck one, but Ms. Saint don’t care. ‘Cause she’s a nurse who deals with gross things all the time.”_ _ _ _

____“I do see a lot of blood and gore, yes.” Joan giggled._ _ _ _

____“Ja.” Ludwig agreed, then quipped. “But nothing so gory as your fast food, Alfred! That you feed to your dog as well. Sheisse! Joan.” He pointed at her in a commanding fashion. “I’m putting you in charge of food for this trip.”_ _ _ _

____“Cool!” Joan was all too happy to take charge. “I’ll make carrot stuffed salmon burgers with leafy green toppings, and sweet potato pancakes with berry and almond toppings. Win the battle to restore Alfie Hero’s vision in no time!” She pumped a fist in the air while Alfred gagged, but Matthew looked concerned._ _ _ _

____“Luddy. Did you just say you want Alfred and me to check on Francis and Arthur in Paris?” He asked nervously._ _ _ _

____At that Ludwig sighed a sad sigh. “Ja, I want you to check on them and report back to me. Because the last time I heard from Arzur, dummkopf Francis had attended eine large funeral mit family members that tested positive for the virus.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh no! That’s terrible.” Joan exclaimed._ _ _ _

____“Francis?” Matthew gulped to himself, violet eyes filling with tears._ _ _ _

____“Arthur?” Alfred gulped as well, his initial scowling and negativity quickly replaced with concern, then full out rage. “That’s it! No more being Arthur’s non psycho ex. I’m going full on psycho and dragging him home to this post the second I get to Paris. Because the fuck if I’m gonna let him stay with the Francy-pants French fuck who of course fucked up this virus thing like the fuck turd he is”_ _ _ _

____“Nein.” Ludwig shook his head vigorously. “Bringing Arzur here, or visiting Arzur at all ist impossible like I said. He und Francis are on strict quarantine.”_ _ _ _

____“If they’re not hospitalized. Or dead.” Matthew muttered to himself, terrified._ _ _ _

____“Nein, they are not dead or hospitalized.” Ludwig assured him. “Meine medical colleagues there would have told me. But they are isolated, und so I want you to look in on them und report back to me. Look in on them from your vacation rental across where Francis’ haus is located.” Ludwig pulled out two maps of the area, one of which he slid down the table to Matthew and Alfred, then one which he held up as he explained a surveillance mission of sorts._ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivan's cargo plane ride from hell. Alfred does his hero thing. Arthur and Francis do FrUK stuff.

Alfred and Company’s Rental Apartment  
1776 Rue de Cul Pompeux, Paris. 

"Mats, Joan dudette! That cargo plane ride was super creepy, yo. But now we're here I'm totally gonna surveil the hell out of Arthur!" 

Alfred burst into the luxury three bedroom apartment, not even bothering to take in its Country French decor, plush furniture, and inviting balcony overlooking an entire street of similar brick row buildings. He left his bags and Alfie Hero in the door frame and went straight to a kitchen counter, colorful sharpies in hand, to draw a WWII motif on the drone Ludwig had given them to spy with. 

With a long suffering sigh Matthew stepped over his obnoxious brother’s dog and luggage and shuffled to the kitchen counter to sit and lay his head on his arms. He, like the others, hadn't slept the entire flight from Ketchikan, Alaska to Paris on a mammoth cargo plane. This was due to the plane's Russian owner, Ivan, creeping everyone out with bizarre behaviour and his even creepier sister scratching at walls and demanding Ivan marry her. 

"Maple! That guy sat on me while holding a pick ax." Mathew expressed shock.

"That was awful." Joan sympathised as she lay the folder with their essential worker travel clearances on a desk. "But I felt most sorry for the little Italian man Ivan made cry with his movie choice."

"Who, Feli? He's always a wimp ass who can't survive without Luddy." Alfred said. "That's why when Feli volunteered to be a hospital aid in Italy, Luddy insisted they both work on a German medical ship treating Italian patients instead."

Matthew raised his head at that. "Um, Als? Maybe Feli isn't as wimpy as Luddy thinks, and Luddy's overbearing behavior made him want some time to himself. Like Arthur wanted time away from you, eh?” He looked at Alfred pointedly, but the advice hardly registered on Alfred’s hero-obsessed radar. 

“Feli want time away from Luddy? No fucking way! Luddy’s a hero, so Feli will always want him. Duh! Now check out my fighter drone of doom. How kick ass is this?" He showed off his WWII fighter plane inspired design job. 

Matthew and Joan exchanged disgusted looks, then Matthew tried again. "Um, Als? Instead of making the drone look obnoxious and surveilling Arthur and Francis obnoxiously, wouldn't it be better if we surveil them discreetly like Luddy said, eh?"

"Yes, Alfred. Let Mr. Bonnefoy grieve the loss of his goddaughter in peace, and give your ex-boyfriend Arthur a break as well." Joan agreed. 

"What, you mean not let Arthur know I’m here?" Alfred cocked his blonde head in thought, then hooted. "The fuck if I’m gonna do that, when I’m the hero and he’s probably desperate for me to save his ass! Now gotta go. Got holy hell, kick ass surveilling to do.” He tucked the drone under his arm like a football and ran for the balcony.

Matthew and Joan exchanged more disgusted looks when he slammed the balcony door shut and whipped out his phone to call for McDonalds delivery. “Huh! So much for following Dr. Luddy’s surveillance plan, and his plan for eating healthy as well. So I may as well just go exploring.” She brightened. “Oh my God! I’m finally here to explore Paris. This is so awesome.” She started to do a happy dance, then stopped short. “Wait a minute. How am I not bumping into Alfie Hero, when that dog’s been sniffing after me nonstop since we got on the plane? And not just sniffing me, but whining and planting his butt on my feet over and over. What’s that about?” She asked Matthew as she looked for the dog, but Matthew just shrugged cluelessly in reply and joined in the search. 

(Teaser: Where did Afie Hero go? Find out in chapter two of the companion short to this story: _Goodbye, Hello Skiver. _)_  
_

Francis’ House  
1789 Rue de Cul Pompeux, Paris

Brows' first weeks in Paris were spent alone for the most part, padding around a five story townhouse as dark and closed off as his pub in England. The house was curtained off due to both Arthur and Francis suffering virus induced headaches. And though neither became too ill to take turns caring for Brows, the coughing and swearing that emanated from their separate bedrooms often proved too much for Brows' sensitive ears. So Brows sought refuge on the lowest floor, where in the street level entryway Brows could look outside at the eerily quiet Paris street and all its masked locals passing by. 

But then one bright sunny morning Francis’ bedroom door flung open to make Brows’ ears twitch in surprise. Following that, Francis’ footfalls were light, not heavy, as he descended the three stairwells to the kitchen and paused on the landing. “Brows, pourquoi est-tu in darkness?” He asked, then looked around open mouthed with a lit cigarette dangling precariously. “Mon Dieu, the whole house est in darkness. Come, I open the curtains pour toi.” He smoked his cigarette with record speed, then stubbed it out in a living room ashtray just as Brows joined him upstairs hesitantly. “Et voilà!” He made a great show of flinging open a floor to ceiling set of curtains, then another, until all curtains were open and the room was flooded with sunlight. “Mon Dieu, quelle différence! Don’t you think so, mon cat caterpillar?” 

“Your cat caterpillar? What the bloody hell are you calling him?” Arthur’s hoarse voice sounded over an intercom as Brows blinked and blinked at the natural light all around him. 

“I call him mon cat caterpillar, mon caterpillar. Parce que his eyebrows are like yours, hon hon hon!” Francis replied mockingly as he removed a plain white cover off a settee to reveal plush fabric underneath. “Et voilà again, Brows! Knead your paws sur ce.” He invited, and Brows lithely jumped up. 

“And just what is it you have him kneading, Frog?” Arthur’s intercom voice demanded to know. 

“Oh hon hon hon hon hon, pervert Arthur! You will have to come down to find out, et enfin partake of the cottage pie que vous avez demandée.” 

Arthur did, with light footfalls similar to Francis’ to indicate he was feeling better as well. The three had cottage pie on a balcony for lunch that day, then the next, then the next, until it became so normal Brows lost track of how many weeks had passed and just continued to enjoy the great food, accommodations, sunny atmosphere, and of course, Arthur, whose milk-tea scent made Brows want to lick his fingers constantly. 

“Ludwig and Feli are to receive an award for saving Covid-19 patients’ lives on a German hospital ship. Brilliant, that.” Arthur held up the newspaper he was reading for Brows and Francis to see during yet another sunshine basking, cottage pie sharing, lunch on the balcony. This time surrounded by fragrant tea roses recently purchased by Arthur. “Though I suppose I should have given Ludwig updates after I called to tell him I was coming here.” 

Francis spat out his cigarette and shot wine out his nose at that. “Ludwig, Mon Dieu! He will find un means to stalk us.” 

“Now now, Francis.” Arthur reminded him. “Ludwig was somewhat heavy handed towards you when he was your doctor in L.A., but he never actually stalked you. Your addicted brain and penchant for histrionics only made you believe that and tell lies to the press. As you yourself admitted when Luddy saved your life for a fifth time over Christmas.” 

“Ah, oui oui. During Noël avec Mattieu.” Francis recalled lovingly his similarly sexy haired, though not as good, Canadian ex-boyfriend now turned son of sorts. But seconds later he sprung out of his deck chair in a panic. “Mattieu! Mattieu! What if he died comme Jeanne! I never thought to vérifier!”

“He’s fine, Francis. Just fine.” Arthur was out of his own deck chair then, helping the taller man lie down and close his eyes. Quickly Arthur employed a cold pack that was always on hand for the accompanying splitting headaches Francis suffered along with panic attacks he couldn’t seem to shake since his goddaughter’s death. “I know Matthew’s fine because a postcard just arrived from him this morning, from Ketchikan of all places. Now, would you have me read it to you while you rest before your online therapy session?” Arthur suggested. 

Francis nodded shakily, and didn’t even notice when Arthur snatched his cigarettes and wineglass away while en route to the kitchen. “Wine guzzling, chain smoking, grief-stricken wanker. But we love him, don’t we?” Arthur whispered to Brows amiably when that cat joined him in sifting through a mail pile on the counter. “Well you love his cottage pie at least, and I have yet to see you knock objects from high places at him like in London.”

Brows harrumphed to himself. _Silly human. There’s a loose roof finial just waiting for me to whack at that French buggar the moment he starts acting pompous again. ___

__Clueless Arthur was not privy to cat-speak, however, so he just continued to search through the mail until he heard Francis yelp from the balcony. “Arthur! Arthur! Ludwig stalks us comme je l'ai dit!”_ _

__“Pardon?” Arthur dropped everything to return to the balcony where he came face to face with the strangest looking drone he’d ever seen, hovering so close Brows was able to jump on a ledge and whack at._ _

__“Tu vois! C’est WWII style!” Francis pointed at the cartoonish monster motif painted on it._ _

__“Er… So it is?” Arthur was quick to agree. “Hmmm. That does look unique. Stupid, even.” Arthur laughed mockingly, then they both flinched when an intercom call informed them of a McDonald’s delivery downstairs. As Francis was a gourmet cook the thought of ordering McDonald’s had never crossed either of their minds._ _

__“Must be a kerfuffle of sorts. I’ll look into it, shall I?” Arthur told Francis, helped that man lay back down with his ice pack, put on a face mask and gloves, then went downstairs with Brows at his heels. Once outside however, two rather strange things occurred. First, Brows stayed firmly in the entryway and merely watched Arthur step out onto the front stoop instead of joining him, which was completely unlike him. And second, after confirming with the delivery worker the package was indeed for him, Arthur opened the small foam container to discover a hamburger with a note that read, in all too familiar Alfred-esque handwriting: Place hamburger on forehead in case of virus.”_ _

(Teaser: Why won’t Brows go outside? Find out in chapter two of the companion short to this story: _Goodbye, Hello Skiver. _)__


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Arthur are reunited, sort of. Francis suffers. Matthew worries.

Arthur blinked down at the hamburger and note, then blinked back tears before ducking back inside Francis’ house. Alfred. Alfred that admirable, heroic, but frustrating as bloody hell wanker who was forever charging into situations he had no bloody business charging into. Alfred was here, and Arthur was flattered beyond belief! So much so he slumped against the closed and locked door in a joyous stupor. Lord, just the chance to see Alfred again from a proper social distancing range had him blinking back happy tears. 

"But of course I bloody well can't risk it after being unwell. And an independent sort like Alfred would never think to wear a mask." Arthur assumed, then flinched when he thought he heard strange fluttering and rustling noises coming from outside. "Hmm. That's weird." He peeked out the door frame window and saw Francis' white birds flitting down balconies, then Brows following after them to end up on a door sign. "Brows?" He gasped. "What in blazes is he on about balancing there? Rather high up, that!" 

He couldn't run outside fast enough to prevent Brows from falling, and that was when he saw it. Saw HIM actually. Alfred decked out in what was probably the most ridiculous personal protection suit in existence. An American flag themed, superhero-esque atrocity to give anyone who saw it laughing fits. And yet. And yet. All Arthur could do was plonk out more happy tears onto his sensible, plain mask and plain outfit as he witnessed Alfred adorably convince Brows to jump on him, but catch Brows when the plastic suit proved too slippery to land on. Afterwords Arthur walked over as if in a love struck trance just as Alfred turned to see him.

A moment of silence was shared between them, along with Alfie Hero who had sniffed over to sit at Arthur's feet and Brows who was still being held against Alfred's chest. Then at last Alfred lowered Brows to the street, and the GoPro Duo as Alfie Hero and Brows was called in the press, and by locals cheering from balconies lining the street, fell all over themselves sniffing and tackling each other joyously. 

"Aw, I wanna do that too." Alfred pined, the longing in his voice obvious despite being muffled by his American Flag neck gaiter.

"We most certainly cannot, even without a pandemic on." Arthur’s more sensible words were muffled by his more sensible mask. 

"No. Why not? It's all over social media Francis cheats on you, and that he begged all his celebrity lovers to quarantine with him in Paris but you were the only one sucker enough to do it."

"Well that's...that’s hardly here nor there, Alfred." Arthur explained. "The poor man has suffered a great loss, tantamount to my losing Alistair last year. And the mental effects are as crippling to him as my brain injury was to me, though thankfully there's no need for him to doss about in bloody toddler reins like a right plonker." Arthur blushed. 

"Huh? You're still embarrassed about that? But you were so cute!" Alfred recalled. 

Arthur could only shake his head and flush all the more until he was distracted by an alarm going off on his phone. "Bugger, Francis' appointment. I need to get back now, Alfred."

"Huh? Why? It's his appointment not yours!"

"I must needs get back, Alfred. Call it being a hero in my way, if you like."

"No, I don't like! I don’t like anyone being the hero but me! And I will never like anything that has to do with your French fuck boyfriend I'm totally gonna chop up into macaroons and impale on the Eiffel Tower for stealing you away from me!"

Arthur let slip a laugh behind his face mask at that. The bloody cheek of this American! He thought, then said seriously. "Goodbye, Alfred. Return to Alaska regardless of whatever surveillance mission Luddy sent you on with that stupi...er, unique drone."

"Aw, you liked my kick-ass fighter drone of doom? 'Cause I sharpied it myself to surveil the holy hell out of you. So I'm glad you think it's top!"

Wanker! Arthur thought, then ran back to the house expecting Francis to be sound asleep, but surprisingly that man was extremely alert and practically hanging off the balcony gawking at a certain pixie haired nurse type walking down the street. “Jeanne. C’est Jeanne.” He rambled at Arthur’s arrival. 

“You don’t say?” Arthur feigned interest at Francis seeing his goddaughter for the umpteenth time this week in yet another young female passerby. 

“C’est Jeanne, réincarné.” 

“Yes, quite.” Arthur tugged Francis into the kitchen then settled him at a table in front of his laptop with a hydrating vitamin drink. “But I should think your therapist will be more interested than myself in hearing you’ve had another Jeanne sighting, so be sure to tell him.”

Francis nodded numbly, then answered the zoom call with a shaky voice as Arthur left to give him privacy. 

“So how’d it go, eh?” Nervous Matthew paused from cooking pancake hamburgers the second Alfred and Alfie Hero returned to the vacation rental. 

“It went great for Alfie Hero and Brows. Did you hear all that cheering and applauding from the balconies?” Alfred replied. 

Matthew shook his head no, because the only thing he’d hoped to hear was Francis calling out to him. 

“Yuh, they were all over each other. But Arthur barely looked at me let alone talked to me. All he kept saying was Francis needed him and he had to get back.”

“Francis needs him, why?” Matthew fretted as he plated Alfred’s lunch first. 

“Who the fuck knows, or cares. The French fuck’s gonna be dumped anyway ‘cause I’m totally declaring war on those two until I win Arthur back.” Alfred said between furious burger bites.

“War, eh?” 

“Yes. War, fucking A!” Alfred finished the last bite then went back out onto the balcony with his drone, while Matthew fed Alfie Hero hamburger minced with fresh vegetables per one of Joan’s recipes. 

“Well, okay.” Matty muttered later when he at last prepared his own plate, but then plucked up his courage to shout. “But be sure to spy on Francis too and see if he’s okay!” 

At that Alfred shouted back. “Spy on that grizzle chinned freak, what’s there to see?” 

“You can see if he’s still sick from the virus?” Matthew shouted again in reply. 

“Yuh, I guess that would be something to see. And who knows? Maybe a doctor shoved a ventilator up his grizzle haired ass because it looked like his face!” Alfred laughed, while Matty swallowed hard from worry instead of swallowing his own pancake burger lunch.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred declares war. Francis responds lewdly. Arthur does his hero thing. Matty asserts himself for once?

"War, n'est ce pas? 

The next morning, Francis chuckled at the reappearance of Alfred’s drone the moment he stepped onto the balcony. It's presence now struck him as comical, especially with the word 'WAR' sharpied under the drone’s World War II monster motif artwork, in all caps and underlined. 

"Ah hon hon hon, Alfred! I will give you war, sans problème." Francis responded as casually as he was dressed, in a Hermes robe worn open to expose his body apart from the skimpiest of rose print silk boxer briefs. With amused blue eyes he looked for something to trap the drone in and hit on a mammoth glass vase with a wide mouth Arthur had yet to fill with tea roses. "I will fill the vase avec toi, ma fleur Alfred." He overturned the vase, placed it over the drone, then maneuvered both down onto a table. "Là. Now you are trapped and must endure ma torture, hon hon hon." He lay back on a deck couch across from the drone buzzing furiously in its overturned vase confines. Then robe gaping wide Francis slowly began smoking cigarettes and blowing the smoke rings upwards. "Hon hon hon. I make hearts pour Arthur. Regarde." He snapped the tops of the rings with his fingers to create smoke hearts.

Meanwhile his birds, the Pierres, flew up from a lower balcony to discover the overturned vase and their reflections in the glass. “Meep meep meep!” They chirped obsessively, then just as obsessively jostled each other to take turns preening. “Oh hon hon hon, Alfred.” Francis taunted. “Mes birds’ feathers are so fluffy, non? Et their chirping si agréable?” 

"The fuck!” Across the street in the vacation rental Alfred swore at the drone footage between McDonald’s McGriddle bites, while Matthew and Joan also watched as they ate Joan’s home cooked vegetable pancakes. "Francis the Frenchy French freak putting on a strip show isn’t bad enough? Now his birds are attention whores too.” Alfred groused.

“Yeah, the birds are just like Francis, while Alfie Hero is as obnoxious as you, Alfred.” Joan gestured to Alfie Hero continuing to sniff and plant his doggy butt on her feet. “Why does your dog keep doing that? Please make him stop.” 

Alfred looked, then hooted. “Make him stop being a hero? No way! 'Cause he's always being a hero the same as me. Now watch me hero spy some more with my kick-ass fighter drone of doom!” 

Joan just shrugged and quipped. “No thanks, General McGriddle. I’m off for more exploring.” She made to stand, but when Alfie Hero whined up at her as if expecting a reward she just cocked her head in confusion and left. Alfie Hero in turn cocked his doggie head in confusion at the closed door, then padded over to his leash hanging on the knob to pull that down while the brothers continued to watch the drone footage. 

“Francis looks okay, eh. Not sick at all.” Matthew breathed a sigh of relief.

“What do you mean he’s not sick? He’s the sickest Frenchy French fuck in the fucking universe who I’m totally gonna strangle with his untied robe, freak!” Alfred swore at his rival’s continued exhibitionism, then flinched along with Mathew when they saw Francis suddenly sit up with a tortured look on his face as he peered over the balcony’s edge.

“Mon dieu, mon dieu. Elle est de retour. Ma Jeanne s'est réincarnée et je suis folle. Complètement.” He moaned to himself in French. 

“What the fuck, Mats? What’s he saying?” Alfred demanded bilingual Matty tell him. 

“Er...er...something about someone named Jeanne being reincarnated and that he’s completely crazy.” Matthew translated. 

“Well he’s got the last part right, freak!” Alfred agreed, not knowing that his own roommate Joan was the one triggering Francis’ ramblings. And that same roommate, dressed in a Joan of Arc themed hoodie of all things, had just arrived at Place des Pyramides within easy viewing of Francis’ balcony, to marvel at the Joan of Arc statue there and recreate the statue’s pose for a selfie. 

At that Francis truly lost it and wailed for Arthur. “Arthur! Arthur, mon caterpillar! La fille I thought was ma goddaughter before, elle s’est transformée into Jeanne d’Arc!”

Alfred and Matty flinched a second time at Francis’ odd behavior, but then Arthur appeared on the screen. 

"Relax, the girl is real. As is your survivor's guilt running amuck yet again, which I suffer from as well.” The sensible Brit soothed as he settled Francis back onto the couch and placed a cold pack on his forehead. 

Under the cold pack Francis covered his tortured blue eyes with shaking fists and moaned. "Mon dieu, cette guilt est worse than la virus."

"Yes, just so." Arthur agreed. "Survivor's guilt is a rather pernicious condition with pernicious side effects we must continue to fight as best we can." 

"Pouah." Francis scoffed, then screwed up his tortured face even more. "Pourquoi should I fight when I am un former addict, but ma chère nièce was une scholar and une volontaire du Peace Corps?” 

Arthur in turn looked pained as he sympathized. "Yes, and my late brother was a war hero twice over, whereas I'm just a brain injured plonker who rammed his head into a shrubbery and was dossing about on toddler reins not long ago. Yet we remain the living ones, Francis. For whatever inexplicable, cock up reason the universe has permitted it. So we must carry on and strive to be heroes in our own way, no matter how insignificant our efforts may be." 

Francis lowered his fists then, and looked up at Arthur with teary grateful eyes. "Mais, you are une hero pour caring pour moi, Arthur. Même après I got you sick and am now acting fou." 

Arthur shook his head then tugged him into a stand. "Not a bit of it, Francis. I could never blame you for passing on a pandemic virus you caught at your goddaughter's funeral, or for acting distraught from survivor's guilt. I continue to suffer from survivor’s guilt myself you see. What’s more I would attend any one of my god children's funerals even now should one of them pass on, God forbid! But if you truly wish to thank me, Francis, you can work harder at getting better. Starting with taking your medicine with proper food in place of wine and fags." He whacked Francis' cigarette pack off the balcony ledge and dumped his wine as well. “And putting some clothes on, wanker!” 

"Mais c'est boring!" Francis protested. 

"Good. Then you'll be bored enough to do your therapy homework at last." Arthur shoved him into the house amidst more protestations, then Alfred and Matty watched Arthur return to reach over the Pierres’ and free the drone from the vase. “Go home, Alfred.” He said, but let slip a chuckle at the new artwork. “War indeed, git!” 

“Yes, war! Fucking war forever, Arthur. Until I get you back.” Alfred shouted at the computer, then noticed Matty sniffling beside him. “What, Matty? What’re ya blubbering about over your pancakes now? And pussy vegetable pancakes at that, lame!” 

“It’s just...it’s just...Arthur IS a hero, dontcha know?” Matty sniffled happily. 

“What? No way!” 

“Yes way, Als. ‘Cause he takes good care of Francis.” 

“Arthur a hero? No way, Mats! When he doesn’t even have a kick-ass fighter drone of doom like me.” 

Matty just shook his squiggle haired head at that, wiped away the happy tears from under his glasses, then told Alfred. “If you can’t see how Arthur’s a hero, you’ll never get him back, Als. ‘Cause Francis sees it, and that’s why Arthur wants to be with him more than you these days.” 

“The fuck you say!” 

“Yuh, the fuck I do say.” Matthew spoke up for once. “And you can ignore me and call me lame all you like. But I meant what I said about Arthur being the hero right now, not you. So think about it. Think hard or forget ever stealing Arthur from Francis, eh.” 

He got up to take Alfie Hero for a walk when that dog brought his leash over. But at their departure Alfred stared into space with befuddled blue eyes at first, then narrowed thoughtful eyes as Matthew’s words echoed in his brain. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chalk art bridge. Brows and Alfie Hero pull off another mission.

An incredible sight greeted Alfie Hero and Matthew when they stepped out onto Rue de Cul Pompeux. A crowd of socially distanced, facemask wearing locals, mostly children and their parents, were drawing a chalk bridge that extended across the street while more locals watched from balconies. Then cheers erupted at Alfie Hero's leaving his building, followed by Brows leaving his building and leaping down balconies the same as yesterday, only this time a ladder had been set up for Brows to easily complete his descent. 

The title _Pont de Duo GoPro _decorated the entire length of the chalk bridge, in addition to chalk versions of love locks, similar to love locks on the famous Pont des Artes. The chalk locks only featured Alfie Hero and Brows’ names however, and real locks also featuring their names decorated the ladder Brows descended to reach the street and bridge which he crossed and met Alfie Hero in the middle.__

__"Duo GoPro! S'aiment pour toujours! Rester amies pour toujours!" The balcony dwellers cheered for them to love each other and stay friends forever as Alfie Hero and Brows engaged in another sniffing, tackling, and tail wagging reunion. But then suddenly a fan surprised Matthew with requests for autographs to the point Matthew dropped Alfie Hero's leash, and Alfie Hero seized the opportunity to run off._ _

__"Skiver, no! What did I tell you about NOT running from your humans?" Brows scolded as he lithely kept up._ _

__"I'm not running, I'm hero-ing!" Alfie Hero explained as he ran straight down the street towards Joan still lingering at the statue. "And I'm running to a human, not away from one."_ _

__"But why? She's hardly your nutter American owner." Brows pointed out once they reached the pixie haired girl who wasn't too happy to see Alfie Hero._ _

__"Why? Because she needs alerting! Alerting, alerting! I'm the best alerter, watch."_ _

__Brows watched as the girl frowned all the more at Alfie Hero's sniffing and planting his butt on her feet. "Well, I say. That's a rather undignified way to greet such a reluctant human."_ _

__"Reluctant? What does that mean?" Alfie Hero cocked his doggy head in confusion._ _

__"It means she's not amused, Skiver."_ _

__"Huh?"_ _

__"She's not pleased with your behavior, so desist immediately."_ _

__“Oh?” Alfie Hero stopped then, but looked all the more confused. “But I’m alerting her like I was trained. She has the virus smell, I smelled it. So now I get treats! Or at least I should get treats, but no one’s been giving me treats lately. Which is really sad ‘cause I love treats. Whoo whoo whoo!” He lamented._ _

__Brows furrowed his cat brows at that. “And here I thought you were grown now. Desist crying this instant.”_ _

__“But I can’t! I haven’t gotten treats in two whole days!”_ _

__“Well! Two whole days, what is the world coming to.” Brows insulted dryly, yet felt moved by his distress regardless. “Right, we’ll work together again to solve this kerfuffle. Same as we solved that bomb kerfuffle in London.”_ _

__“We will? Okay!” Alfie Hero barked happily._ _

__“Yes, quite. Now did I hear you correctly when you stated this girl has the virus?”_ _

__“Yup. She’s got it. I smell it real strongly.”_ _

__“Real strongly. Right.” Brows quipped, then joined Alfie Hero and the girl in looking up when suddenly the Pierres’ flew down the street unexpectedly to join them._ _

__“Chat ordinaire, you don’t deserve a chalk art homage. Mais your friend's goggles are still fabuleux.” They taunted as they perched together on the Joan of Arc statue._ _

__“Sod off, bird frogs. Alfie Hero and I are trying to alert a human at present.” Brows hissed._ _

__“You alertez un human? Pourquoi? When it is your lack de style that needs alerting, chat.” They mocked, but then said. “Encore, we will help you anyway.”_ _

__“You’ll help us? Cool!” Alfie Hero barked._ _

__“No. Not cool. They are vile creatures.” Brows told him._ _

__“They are? But they’re so white and fluffy, like marshmallows I love.” Alfie Hero suddenly felt homesick for toasted marshmallows at his Alaskan home._ _

__“Marshmallows, horrid.” Brows grimaced, then returned to the problem at hand. “Right, bird frogs. Care to run interference for a bit? So the girl can’t spread the virus to other humans?” He asked, and for reply the Pierres flew off to divert an approaching couple by knocking off the gentlemen’s hat and making them chase it. “Not bad, that.” Brows nodded. “But it won’t buy us much time I’m afraid.”_ _

__“I can try alerting the girl again, but I doubt she’d understand.” Alfie Hero arfed._ _

__“Ah humans. Still so slow on the uptake, just like last time.” Brows sighed, then peered at Alfie Hero’s collar and suggested. “Perhaps there’s a tag that could inform her of your sniffer dog occupation?”_ _

__“A tag? I’ve got lots!” Alfie Hero shook all the tags on his collar proudly._ _

__“Well tags advertising vaccinations are hardly conducive, but perhaps…” Brows pawed at the tags until he found one with a medical symbol. “Perhaps this one will do the trick.”_ _

__“Cool! I’ll show her right now!” Alfie Hero rushed for the girl with tail wagging, but his past actions made her dodge him as before._ _

__“No, no. Tact is what’s called for. Now come here.” Alfie Hero padded over, Brows took hold of the medical tag with his teeth, then the two moved as a team towards the girl who was struck motionless at their strange actions. Then finally they reached her, and Brows displayed the tag in such a way that she couldn’t help but see it._ _

__“Huh? What’s that? A medical detection tag?” The girl gasped, then bent down to read it and gasped some more. “You’re a medical detection dog, Alfie Hero? How come I never..? Oh that’s right!” She smacked a hand to her forehead. “Dr. Luddy told me you were a service dog long ago. Duh!” She laughed, then yelped. “And all this time you were...you were...I’m infected with the virus, aren’t I? Crap!” She looked around wildly, saw the Pierres swoop down on a second approaching couple, then grabbed Alfie Hero’s leash. “I’ve got to get back where I can quarantine! Alfie Hero, let’s go.”_ _

__They began running, with Brows lithely keeping up. After a few moments the Pierres joined them as well, from the air. “Mais oui! Run like the wind from your fashion erreurs, chat ordinaire!”_ _

__“Oh, shut it.” Brows hissed at them, but they only laughed as they flew back to Francis’ house and their balcony. Then Brows himself arrived at Alfie Hero and Joan’s building, and waited with Alfie Hero while Joan tearfully explained things to Matthew and handed over the leash._ _

__“Oh crap. My one chance to see Paris and I have to quarantine. Crap, crap, crap.” She mourned, then paused in the building’s door frame to take one last look at the city around her. “Goodbye Paris! I loved what little I saw of you! Maybe someday I’ll see more, but until then, Adieu!” She mimicked an air kiss as best she could through her face mask, then dismally went inside._ _

__“Aw. That’s too bad, eh.” Matthew commented after her, then turned when he sensed another person trying to get his attention, only this time it was someone he knew and loved, not an autograph seeker. “Francis?” He brightened, and dropped Alfie Hero’s leash again when that former crush turned father figure waved and made hug gestures from exactly six feet away._ _

__“Matthieu! Comment how I’ve missed you!” Francis mewled through his rose print face mask._ _

__“Aw, really? I’ve missed you too, Francis!” Matthew blubbered through his Canadian leaf face mask._ _

__“Tu l’as fait? Then I am happy. Mais what of the girl? Pourqoi is she so sad?”_ _

__“She’s sad ‘cause she’s gotta quarantine now, and can’t see Paris anymore.”_ _

__“Not see Paris anymore? C’est insupportable! I will see that she sees Paris. All of Paris. So much of Paris she will grow sick of my being le guide.” He took out a camera from his blazer pocket, a camera Arthur had insisted Francis take with him because his therapy homework assignment was to do something creative, and set off to make a travel vlog._ _

__“Well okay then. Her name is Joan by the way.” Matthew called after him._ _

__“Joan. Bien sûr.” Francis swallowed hard, then smiled a bittersweet smile and turned on the camera as well as his world renowned charm._ _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis does Francis. Alfred finally snaps. A motorcycle chase. Ivan's psycho boarding call.

That evening, as per their usual, Arthur and Francis ate leftover cottage pie for dinner on the balcony while Brows dozed on the balcony ledge. This time however, Alfred’s drone hovered menacingly, even as that man could be seen across the street flying it one handed while eating a burger with the other. Matthew and Joan meanwhile, could be seen on the balcony as well, looking depressed as they picked at their burgers while wrapped in blankets, clearly upset at being quarantined. 

“Aw, poor loves. Best see if they need anything.” Arthur reached for his phone, but Francis whipped out his phone far quicker and ran inside to engage in what Arthur guessed would be a private conversation. Hmmm. Interested in Matthew again, are we? Arthur thought curiously, not in the least bit offended. After all, he and Francis hadn't been a proper couple for months, merely allies. Excellent allies to be sure, during a perilous time, but now it seemed Francis was well enough to carry on without him, if his pursuing Matthew again and a new artistic endeavor, travel vlogging, was anything to go by. Arthur could now go home to London. 

And bring Alfred with me? The happy possibility caused his green eyes to well with tears. Lord help him, how he still loved that American, and wanted to pick up their relationship where they'd left off before Arthur's insecurities had caused him to end things rashly. But however can I make it up to him? He wondered, then found himself dozing off the same as Brows, as the sky above and the street below grew darker, until…

“Francis Bonnefoy? Francis Bonnefoy on the phone for me? ME?” Delighted squealing caused both Arthur and Brows to jerk awake and look across the street. The pixie haired girl named Joan, that Francis had filmed his first travel vlog for only to have it go viral within seconds, could be seen and heard squealing and jumping out of her deck chair to take the cell phone Matthew held out to her. 

“Oh, Lord. I should have guessed.” Arthur smirked to Brows, who’s pink ears twitched in annoyance at the girl’s high pitched cloying. “What an utter ponce monster, to stir her up and the entire street for that matter.” He referred to Francis’ neighbors all gathering on their balconies now, to capture the girl’s reactions to his world renowned flirting on their cell phones. 

“Really! I remind you of your goddaughter! AND Joan of Arc!” Joan was ecstatic. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you Monsieur Bonnefoy! I’m a huge fan of Joan of Arc, and yourself, and all things French. Uh huh. Uh huh. See Paris at night from the back of your motorcycle? Now? Can I?” 

Arthur continued smirking good humoredly to Brows. “Lord, not his Voxan-Café Racer motorbike. Poor girl will squeal herself to death at the sight of it. As will those fan club women on the corner what’s always dancing the Can Can and throwing rose petals at him whenever he ponces by.” 

However, as amusing as he found the situation, Alfred was anything but amused.

“The fuck!” Across the street Arthur saw Alfred confront Matthew and Joan. “Both of you blubbering over Francis the Frenchy French fuck now? That freak stole my boyfriend!” 

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry, Alfred. It’s just...it’s Francis Bonnefoy!” Joan fangirled. “And he’s so French, and we are in France.” 

“Oui, Alfred. C’est la France” Francis returned to the balcony to gloat loudly for all to hear. “The best place on earth, avec the best personnes on earth.” He spurred his Parisian neighbors into applauding, and bowed dramatically. 

“Oh now that’s just putting Alfred in a strop, that is.” Arthur whacked Francis’ pretentious bowing head and called out to Alfred. “Alfred, pay no heed to his ponciness. I beg you. That’s just Francis being Francis.”

He expected a madcap, rageful response. Such as Alfred threatening to beat Francis into macaroons again. But instead Alfred adopted a hangdog expression Arthur had never seen before, before replying in a rather uncharacteristic resigned tone. “Yuh, I get it. Francis is just being Francis to make everyone love him. Especially you, Arthur. Enough to dump me. And Matthew and Joan to fangirl so hard over him I’ve been the bad guy to them ever since I got here. So okay. He wins. He’s the hero. And you’re a hero too Arthur, for taking care of him. And all y’all are heroes except me.” He called out to the balcony viewers, who had no idea what to make of his speech. 

Arthur in turn had no idea what to make of it, especially when directly afterwards Alfred stomped inside the apartment as Mathew and Joan ran after him. Something was very wrong, he sensed, as minutes felt like hours with still no sight of him. Then he heard it, the result he feared most would come about in the form of Alfred slamming out the building and Alfie Hero howling from the balcony. 

“Whoooooooo!” Alfie Hero was distraught.

“Sorry buddy. I’ll miss you too.”Alfred called up to him from street level, an American flag themed duffel slung over his shoulder. "But you've got your cat version of Arthur to hang tight with. And he'll never dump you like my Arthur dumped me. So enjoy that closeness forever, while I'm… No, I wont say where I’ll be working, but at least I’ll be a hero again!” 

He started down the street, just as gobsmacked Arthur finally found his voice. “Alfred, no! Whatever you’re on about, don’t!” 

For a moment the younger man paused. Arthur saw the muscular chest he loved so well rise and fall as Alfred thought. However, the spell soon wore off, and Arthur watched Alfred form a gun with both hands, raise the barrel to his lips and kiss it, then make a shooting gesture in his direction before running to a waiting Uber that all too quickly drove off.

“Much as je t’adore, mon caterpillar. Tu n’es pas Joan!” Francis complained twenty minutes later, at Arthur’s being on the back of his motorbike instead of his date as he zoomed them through the streets of Paris in pursuit of Alfred. 

“Apologies, Francis. But it couldn’t be helped, as I well and truly put my foot in it this time.” 

“No not you, Arthur. Me!” Matthew agonized through Arthur’s helmet Bluetooth earbuds. “I’m the hozer that got on Al’s case for acting too much like a hero.” 

“Well it’s hardly surprising you would do that, Matthew. Considering how obnoxious Alfred was going on about it this time.” Arthur soothed into the microphone while Francis, driving like a mad Frenchman, made lewd gestures as he wound through what little traffic impeded him. “And just why is it your brother always fancies himself a hero anyway?” 

“Because when we were foster kids, it was the only thing that kept him going. Keeping me and other kids from being bullied, eh? It gave him a sense of control, especially after his friend died.” 

“Friend? What friend?” Arthur grimaced as Francis drove past the Musée de L'air et de L'espace on his way to a private airport on the city outskirts. 

“A fellow foster kid named Davie, who had Progeria, an accelerated aging disease. That kid died on his tenth birthday, though he looked like an old man, so he would have been bullied up to the end if Alfred hadn’t protected him.” 

“Lord! How utterly dreadful!” 

“Yes, it shook Alfred up real bad. But more recently he’s been depressed about not being able to load medical supplies fast enough to save more people. We try, we really do. But our bodies give out sometimes, and the planes have to take off with less boxes.” 

“And let me guess. Alfred blames himself.”

“Yuh, he blames himself for that and Davie still. Because he never gets over things, don’tcha know? He just pushes himself to be more and more of a hero, thinking that will solve everything.”

“Ah, poor Luv.” Arthur sighed as Francis arrived at the private jet hangars at Aéroport du Bourget, where a certain Russiant cargo plane had yet to take off with Alfred on it, or so both Matthew and Arthur hoped. 

“Arthur, please stop Alfred from working for psycho Ivan! Anyway you can, eh? ‘Cause Alfred’s so burned out and overworked already, he’s more likely to succumb to Ivan’s pickaxe and metal pipe beatings than the nerd associates he wants to protect!”

“Well I’ll certainly do my best, Matthew. And we’re here now, so I’ll soon get back to you.” Arthur ended the call as Francis parked the motorcycle at the hangar entrance Matthew had described. Then as he and Francis both took off their helmets, Arthur got off the bike while Francis stayed seated. 

“Arthur, mon caterpillar. I will wait here and untangle mes cheveux, then braid it so it will not mat on the ride home.” He pulled out a seemingly endless supply of hair products, brushes and combs from a motorcycle saddlebag as he said it. 

“Right.” Arthur rolled his eyes, then marched into the hangar just as Alfred was about to board a mammoth Antonov AN-225 cargo plane, along with a psychotic looking white haired man in a long coat, scarf, and three nerdy, quite pale assistants. 

“Alfred, a word.” Arthur called out to make the entire group glanced in his direction. 

“A word, Arthur?” Alfred’s blue eyes looked hopeful at first, then narrowed. “What word would that be? Goodbye? ‘Cause you already said that. No wait, you said that after you French kissed the Frenchy French fuck right in front of me. LONG after.” He groused to make the man Arthur assumed was Ivan stick his tongue out delightedly and dart his creepy violet eyes between Arthur and Alfred.

Arthur blinked in horror at Ivan for a moment, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Alfred, I couldn’t have been more wrong in the rash way I ended things. It was due to my own insecurities, you see. A flare up of survivor’s guilt, which culminated in my committing the biggest cock up of my life, dumping you. But as it stands, I still fancy you madly.”

“You do?” Alfred yelped, and looked hopeful for a second time, but then hung his blonde head. “Nah, you’re just saying that to be a hero. A bigger hero than me, like Matty said. So you just keep taking care of Francis, okay? And I’ll be a hero by loading Ivan’s cargo ships for the rest of my vacation, so more supplies can get where they need to and save people!” He brightened a little at the last sentence, then brightened a little more when he stopped Ivan from pressing a gloved hand on the youngest, smallest assistant’s head in a scary forceful manner. 

Arthur blinked in horror a second time at Ivan’s actions, then flinched when a flouncily dressed girl with white hair down to her waist and a bow print face mask suddenly exited the plane wielding a touch-less thermometer like a weapon. Speaking Belarusian she began screening the assistants, but when Alfred joined the cue she exploded in a rage, and dove for him as if to scratch him. An attack Alfred easily blocked with one hand to her forehead, still she swung her arms madly as she screeched in displeasure at Alfred’s presence. 

Lord! The girl sees Alfred as a romantic rival for Ivan, despite the fact Ivan is clearly her brother. Arthur winced, then racked his brain for something, anything, more he could say to make Alfred change his mind about working for psycho nutter Ivan and his even more psychotic sister. But before he could think of anything, miracle of miracles! The Belarusian she-devil suddenly jumped away from Alfred’s hand and reached up to touch her forehead. 

The spot Alfred had touched felt hot, but not due to pressure. Alfred had been quite gentle holding her at arm’s length. No, the heat she felt was due to another reason, Arthur observed, as the girl began pumping her fists happily. Then seconds later, with violet eyes similar to Ivan’s gleaming mischievously, the girl signaled Alfred to approach her for a temperature screening. 

“Oh, NOW you’re gonna let me on the plane? After all that psycho bitch drama? Oooooo-kay.” Alfred said and bent slightly so she could screen him easier. The thermometer flashed and pinged the result. She read it, pumped her fists again, then held it up.

“Ha! No travels for you, lichamudak.” She whooped, then finished screening the assistants before herding them onto the plane. 

“Licha...huh? Muda...wha?” Alfred begged Ivan for an explanation. 

“Fever asshole, my sister called you. You are nyet to fly or work. Pity.” Ivan told him, his formerly delighted eyes now bland and expressionless as he boarded the plane without Alfred. 

“But she’s lying dude! I’ve never been sick in my life!” Alfred called after him as the plane door closed and a tug arrived to pull it out on the ramp. 

“I say, Alfred.” Arthur went to him, concern welling in his throat as he held a hand to his forehead at the same time he led him out the hangar. 

“Oh what now, Arthur.” That man groused. 

“Core blimey! You are rather warm! Best get you to quarantine straight away.” 

“Quarantine...huh? The hell if I need...and what the fuck is THAT!” Alfred exclaimed at both the sight of Francis’ motorbike, AND Francis using a side mirror to pin up his chic braid into an even more stylish rolled up chignon. 

“That, Alfred Luv. Is your quarantine transport. Now on with you.” He urged Alfred to get on the back seat while both Alfred and Francis protested. 

“No fucking way am I riding with a man bun blowing in my face!” 

“Arthur, mon caterpillar! His burger breath will permeate mes cheveux!”

“Right.” Arthur rolled his eyes then snatched Francis’ helmet from where it rested on the seat. “I’ll ride between you shall I? On Alfred’s lap, seeing as how you’re so keen to keep your poncey hair mat free Francis.” He donned the helmet as he urged Alfred to board, then positioned himself between them, his arms around Francis and Alfred’s arms around him. “But do drive carefully this time Francis. Seeing how there’s three of us, and you without a helmet.” 

“Nuh uh!” Alfred argued against Arthur’s back. “No fucking way are you driving a V-Twin like a wimp-ass, Francis!” 

“Oh hon hon hon, Alfred. You noticed mon moteur?” 

“Yuh, Francis. Your motor is kick ass. So don’t you dare drive slow.” 

“Mais bien sur I will not drive slow, Alfred. Parce-que I am French, and so I only drive...French!” He hooted, then squealed off so fast he left a burnt rubber mark to make Alfred cheer, and Arthur swear at the stupidity of poncey Frenchmen and powerful engine obsessed Americans.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A triumphant return. A forever reunion?

Back at Rue de Cul Pompeux, a performance like atmosphere took hold when Francis’ Can Can dancing fan club, alerted by viral live streams blowing up their phones, arrived with swirly skirts, an accordion, and baskets of rose petals they spread onto the street for Francis to drive over upon his return. However, when they noticed poor Alfie Hero, the dog half of the famous 'Duo Gopro' pair, still in distress at Alfred’s abrupt departure, the group began to lead the balcony residents in singing lullabies to comfort him, starting with the song ‘A la Claire Fontaine.’ 

Sadly however, this did little to comfort the distraught Spaniel as he moaned in distress against Brows’ cream neck. “My human! My human! Why did he leave?”

“Ah, Skiver. As to that, all I can say is humans are rather dimwitted creatures, who are forever arguing and engaging in daft comings and goings.” Brows sighed. “Daft comings and goings that concern their animals, in particular.” He grimaced at the memory of his first human, a selfish young Royal who in the midst of an argument with his girlfriend on a busy London sidewalk, simply threw kitten Brows at her when Brows had peed in his arms from sheer terror, then nearly ran over both of them in his sport car in his haste to abandon them both. 

“But I want him back. I want him back now! Woooo!” Alfie Hero wailed. 

“Well as to that, I would say it’s excellent you two are bonded so closely.” Brows admitted, then realized he in turn wished for Arthur to come back. This hadn’t been the case for the Royal, he recalled. In fact he’d felt nothing but relief to see that human put distance between them. Even when that meant being left to fend for himself on a freezing cold London street with a blizzard fast approaching. But Brows highly doubted Alfie Hero would ever have to experience such hardship. “Your human will be back, I’m sure of it.” Brows assured him. “Meantime, my sensible hum...er, temporary caregiver Arthur, will see to both our needs brilliantly.” 

“Huh? What’d you call your human?” Alfie Hero raised his head to cock it. 

“I called Arthur my temporary caregiver, for that is precisely what he is at present.” 

“Nuh uh!”

“Yes, just so. My true human Nick is in hospital.” 

“Nuh uh! Arthur’s your human. Admit it.” 

“Bosh! That I could never do, Skiver. When Nick was the one to rescue me that time.” That god awful, paws near frozen off, fur covered in sleet and ice time. Brows closed his eyes tight at the memory, then opened them again with a jolt when he heard the squiggle haired human on the balcony with them, the one who had been talking to Arthur before, pull out his cell phone when that rang. 

“Arthur, did you stop him? You did!” He whooped and pumped a fist in the air as Joan, their neighbors and the Can Can group whooped along with him. “You’re on your way back now? Beauty!” He ended the call, then bent to pat Alfie Hero. “Alfred’s coming. Any minute now, eh?” He pointed and looked down the street as he said it, then sure enough, Francis’ motorbike with Alfred and Arthur for passengers turned onto the street as neighbors cheered and Can Can dancers performed a line of splits behind the bike as it coasted to a stop. 

“Oh, fuck. More Francis worship.” Alfred said as he and Arthur dismounted the bike, however his tone was lighthearted this time. The lightheartedness continued when he was forced to move out of the way for Can Can dancers to do cartwheels off the passenger seat he and Arthur had just vacated. A few even used Francis’ arms to do handstands as Alfred shrugged. “Oh well. I guess Francis does deserve worship. If only ‘cause he drives so kick ass.” He said to Arthur, then suddenly felt dizzy from the ride and the sight of so many swirly skirts and striped stockings spinning before him.

“Lord, that would be your fever kicking in. Quarantine time for you, Luv.” Arthur said as he nudged him toward the rental building. 

"What, we've gotta part again? So soon after you said you you still fancy me?" Alfred whined.

"I'm afraid so, Alfred. Much as it pains me. But do put as many burgers on your forehead as required to cure what ails you, as you are forever doing to me." Arthur quipped lovingly, then with great reluctance handed him over to Matthew and Joan when those two ran out with Alfie Hero.

“Whoooo!” Alfie Hero cried from joy this time as he jumped into Alfred’s waiting, though shaky, arms. Brows in turn allowed himself to be taken into Arthur’s arms after leaping down balconies and crossing the street. 

“I hear you purring.” Alfie Hero said over Alfred’s shoulder. 

“You most certainly do not.” Brows denied as he purred against Arthur's shoulder. 

“He’s your human, admit it.” 

“I could never do, as I said.” 

“Why not? Admit it right now so we can be together forever!” 

“Together forever?” Brows entertained the idea, found it most comforting, then narrowed his cat eyes in doubt as Alfie Hero was led along with Alfred across the street towards the rental building. Seconds later, Brows himself was carried by Arthur in the opposite direction towards Francis’ house. “Together forever, you say?” He meowed before their respective quarantine doors closed. “And just how do you propose to bring about such utter nonsense?”

“How else? With my super duper, super dog, super cat, super bringer together, superhero plan of victory! That I’m gonna come up with right, arfing, now!” Alfie Hero barked back, then barked one last goodbye as neighbors sang and Can Can girls danced to the song ‘Au Revoir, Goodbye,’ and Brows hoped against hope his skiver friend could actually arrange things so they, and their respective humans, never had to hear the word ‘goodbye,’ in song form or any other form ever again.


End file.
